On The Fly

Oh, a Turkey Trot, a funny sight, A morning stroll, a pure delight. Six forty-five is the time to start, So let’s all run (walk) with all our hearts. While others Turkey hunt today a foolish plight, We’ll run and jog with pure delight. No need for guns, no need for gear, Just happy feet and holiday cheer. New York City is a bustling place, A different trot, a different pace. With Macy’s Parade, a colorful sight, The city’s bright a morning light. But here in Vista, we’ll run our own, A festive race, a joyful tone. So lace up shoes, and let’s all go, To run and walk, row by row. A Turkey Trot, a thankful sight, A perfect way to welcome daylight. Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you have a fantastic day filled with joy and togetherness! I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening, see you in the next episode.

In this episode, Unexpected Encounter . . . Life presents peculiar twists that make us ponder the universe’s mysteries. Last week, I found an unexpected book :  Another Lousy Day in Paradise ,  A 1996 fly fishing journal by the inspiring humorist and author John Gierach.  It may seem strange for a random book selection to inspire such reflection but stay with me. I’ve always been a bookworm, often buying more than I can read—ask my wife. This book had been gathering dust on my shelf for over 28 years. As I delved into Gierach’s witty and insightful writing, I was captivated by his unique perspective on life, fly fishing, and the outdoors. In 1992, while living in Manhattan, I stumbled into a shop on 5th Avenue called The Urban Angler . I purchased my first fly rod, an Orvis eight-and-a-half foot, three-ounce, five-weight beauty! I remember thinking Dad would say, “Why the hell would you buy a fishing rod in New York City?” “Because I want to learn to Flyfish.” “In New Yo...

In this episode - How the Grinch Stole Christmas . . . by Dr. Seuss Did you know that the Grinch first appeared as a 33-line illustrated poem by  Theodore Geisel - “Dr. Seuss" titled "The Hoobub and the Grinch?” Originally published in the May 1955 edition of Redbook magazine? Dr. Seuss began work on How the Grinch Stole Christmas! a couple of years later, in early 1957. This children’s classic was first published as a book by  Random House  on October 12, 1957, and at approximately the same time in an issue of  Redbook . Based on a 2007 online poll, the  National Education Association  listed this book as one of its "Teachers' Top 100 Books for Children”. “Maybe - Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas . . . perhaps . . . means a little bit more!” Stay safe this Christmas season. Feel free to share this Podcast with family and friends; your joy may grow three sizes today. Merry Christmas! I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for lis...

In this episode, Poetry’s Magic . . . As autumn's crisp air ushers in the holiday season, I'm drawn into the magical realm of words. The soothing rhythm of poetry, the delight of children's stories, and the possibilities of this year's children's podcast create a joyful symphony. Recently, I have been exploring the classic works of great literary figures from my library. With his earthy poetry, Carl Sandburg paints such vivid pictures of the American landscape that you can almost feel the breeze. Dr. Seuss , the master of whimsy, joyfully transports us to fantastical worlds brimming with colorful creatures. And let’s not forget Edgar Albert Guest , who beautifully captures the essence of everyday life, making it feel extraordinary: simple yet profound reflections on love, hope, and friendship. You may have noticed recently that I've been adding poetry to my On the Fly blog posts to brighten things up. It’s been a delightful and rewarding journey, and I've ...

In this episode, Father’s Moonlit Walk . . . by: Patrick Ball The moonlit night, a silent scene, A tranquil hour, serene and keen. I sit alone, a cup held tight, Lost in the past, a fading light. November's chill–crisp, cold air, A gentle breeze, a solemn prayer. I think of Dad, a man of grace, A loving heart, and a smiling face. We’d wander the woods, a father's pride, A loyal hound, by our side— the forest's depths, a mystic sight, A starry sky, a beacon bright. Through fields of gold, we’d make our way, A rustic path, a golden ray. The hound would bay, a mournful sound, A treetop chase, on hallowed ground. A simple joy, a treasured sight, A father's love, a guiding light. A memory's warmth, a gentle hand, A timeless bond across the land. . . . Welcome back to On the Fly. This rambling was triggered by a fleeting thought while driving home from work the other night. The sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean as we drove South on the 5 Freeway, just entering the ...

In this episode, The Man Behind the Fence . . . The crisp morning air invigorated me as I exited the Ford dealership. At 7:00 a.m., my service representative, Jim, assured me my truck would be ready in about two hours. With the sun shining brightly and the temperature a cool 49 degrees, I decided to stroll through the quaint Vista Village downtown area. The only signs of life away from the main street intersections were the ducks playing in the park's stream, service trucks tending to the area, and litter collectors. The peacefulness of the morning was interrupted only by the gentle hum of an occasional passing car. The aroma of freshly baked goods drifted through the air, drawing me to Danny's Donuts, founded in 1973. From the walk-up window, I ordered a cup of coffee and a blueberry cake donut, a classic combination that never fails to satisfy me. As I found a cozy spot in a slightly wobbly chair on the outdoor patio, a young man with a beard and cheerful yet somber demeanor...

In this episode - Dawn’s Embrace . . .   In the quiet hours before dawn breaks, The darkness whispers, and my spirit wakes. For in my hands, tomorrow lies— A chance to reach, to strive, to rise. With steady focus, I find my way, Turning each task into light for the day. Not every path is smooth or clear, Yet I push forward, shedding fear. Life may bring disappointments, it's true. My dreams are mine, and I'll see them through. My attitude is my own to steer, and No One else shapes the hope I hold dear. So I start each morning with a heart alight, Embracing dawn’s gentle, hopeful sight. For love, for dreams, I’ll build and grow, Sharing this warmth with all I know. In each sunrise, I find the key— The dawn of hope that lives in me.  . . . Welcome to this week's episode of On The Fly . The previous poem was written the day after the election results. Yes, we’ve made it through another presidential election cycle. Everyone at work was gloomy, angry, frustrated, and could not...

In this episode, The Power of a Thank-You Note . . . Halloween night is a time for spooky fun and neighborhood camaraderie. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets, neighbors emerged from their homes, transforming their driveways into festive candy stations. A familiar face caught my eye as I strolled around the neighborhood, taking in the sights and chitchatting with the neighbors. It was a neighbor I hadn't spoken to in years, a young mother whose daughter had interviewed me for a school project on gemstones and the GIA in 2014. As I approached her, a spark of nostalgia ignited. "So, how old is your daughter now?" I asked, curious about her journey. "She's 23," she replied, a smile spreading across her face. "She's studying architecture now." I was taken aback. "That can't be possible," I exclaimed. "It feels like she interviewed me for her school project just yesterday." Time had s...